A Deal with the Devil
by Teklah
Summary: Ch. 7 up! Kenny agrees to carry out Satan's request, and in return he gets one wish. SLASH KennyxDamien StanxKyle
1. Satan's request

"Bye Kenny!" I hear Kyle yell as he steps inside his house. I turn around and wave goodbye. We usually walk home together since are houses are so close to each other. Of course, no one really lives that far apart from anyone else because this redneck town is so small, but whatever; at least it meant I didn't have that far to walk, especially since my parents are so fucking poor they can't even afford to buy a decent meal, much less a car.

I step on the crosswalk, but before I'm even halfway across the street I hear a car heading my way. Just as I see the speeding car coming closer, it crashes into me and the last thing I remember before blacking out is that I'm flying halfway across the street.

When I wake up I notice right away that there's this emo kid staring right at me. It takes me a while to remember who he is and when I recall what happened I let out a groan. I hadn't died for a whole three days (which Kyle had said to be some kind of record) and had started hoping that maybe my dead-then alive-then dead again sequence had finally stopped. Obviously, it hadn't.

"Kenny, you're here!" he says. I was already in a bad mood because it had turned out my no dying streak had only lasted three days and listening to his annoyingly high-pitched voice was not making me feel any better.

"Why is it that every fucking time I try to cross the street I always get hit by a goddamn car? That one came out of nowhere!" I burst out. Even though Damien hadn't done anything I couldn't stop myself from releasing my anger and frustration on him, since he was standing right there.

"Oh, right…this time you were actually killed on purpose, my dad made the car accident happen since he wanted to ask you a favor. He couldn't come up there so he had to bring you down here. He sent me to get you for him, so that's why I'm here." I just blink at him. It takes a while for all this to sink in.

"…Huh?" That's all I can think of saying at the moment. I'm too confused to come up with anything else.

"I think he said something about needing you to prevent this thing from happening on Earth or whatever. Since you already go back and forth from being in Hell to being with the living he thought you'd be perfect." I scowl at him.

"Why should I do anything for him, he killed me!"

"So? You probably would've just died the next day or so anyway, and you always just come back to life."

"Why is that?"

"Dunno, ask my dad." He starts walking away, probably headed towards where Satan is. Sighing wearily, I get up and follow him.

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"Kenny, do you know why I brought you here?" Satan asks. I shook my head. I'm standing in front of him now, having followed Damien all the way here. He had left the room a while ago, which left just Satan and I.

"Well, one of those friends of yours, the fat one...what's his name...?"

"Cartman?" I ask in disbelief. What did he have to do with anything?

"Right, Cartman, that's the name. You see, when I looked into the future I saw him dying. When he does die, he will end up in hell, which isn't surprising really, but I also saw him trying to overthrow me and take my place as ruler. I brought you here so you could stop that from-"

"Wait, Cartman's dying?" I interrupt him. For some reason hearing that surprised me more than hearing he was going to try and take over hell when he died. Weird.

"Yes, unfortunately if your friend doesn't stop eating the way he does, he'll suffer from heart disease and eventually die from it, which brings me back to the reason I brought you here. If you manage to stop that from happening, either by getting him to lose weight and becoming healthy or somehow make it so that he gets into heaven-" I snort at the idea-"I'll give you anything you want in return." I thought I feel my heart skip a beat when I heard him say that (which is strange, since I happen to be dead). Anything I want, that meant I could ask him to…wait a second, something wasn't right.

"Even if I stop Cartman from dying of heart disease wouldn't he just eventually die from something else when he gets older?"

"True, but as long as he lives a few extra years that will be good enough. I mostly want to give myself more time to prepare for when he tries to take over. Is it a deal then?" I nod, yes.

"How would he even manage to take over, anyway?" I suddenly think to ask. Satan gives me this look as if I had just asked a really stupid question.

"With help from Hitler, of course," he says, like it's the most obvious thing.


	2. Cartman

Author's note: Most of the time the story will probably be in Kenny's point of view, but this chapter I decided to write it in Cartman's. And, in case you don't figure it out, when I wrote the dialogue for this chapter I didn't actually misspell anything, I was just trying to write some of the words the way Cartman says them, with his weird accent and all, though I'm not sure I did such a good job on that. Now, on with the story!

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So far I've heard Kenny beg, whine, bribe, then threaten to blackmail me in order to get me to go on a diet and exercise, which was utterly confusing to me since I've been eating the same way I always have since I was eight. I can't figure out why he suddenly seemed to care so much about my health, but it was bothering the hell out of me. I don't believe, even for a second that he was actually trying to do this because he really did want to help me. Even though Kenny seemed to be better friends with me than he was with Stan or Kyle, that was just because those two were always together, so I was only his best friend by default. I knew he didn't actually like me that much. There had to be another reason, but whenever I asked him what it was he always found a way to avoid answering me.

My curiosity doubled when I found Kenny sitting down behind the school's bleachers after school one day. I hadn't expected to see him there, no one else really hung out behind the bleachers except the Goths who only went there so they could smoke. He was talking to this boy I've never seen before—at least, I don't remember ever seeing him before, but for some reason seemed oddly familiar. He was dressed in black from head to toe, with hair and eyes that were same color as his clothes. It made his pale skin look even lighter, and from where I was standing I could hear his high-pitched voice, but I couldn't make out the words. Neither of them seemed to have noticed me, so I edged a little closer, trying to hear them better.

"--doesn't seem like you've made much progress," I heard the pale, black-haired boy say.

"No, but I'm working on it. He's really hard to convince sometimes," Kenny said. I knew he had to be talking about me. I couldn't think of anyone else.

"You know, I _could_ just brainwash him for you or something like that. You don't really _need_ to convince him." _What the hell?_ I wondered if the black-haired boy was delusional.

"No, that's okay. Cartman might be a complete asshole but he still doesn't deserve to be brain—well, actually, he does, but still, it hasn't been that long yet, he might change his mind soon." The strange, black-haired boy sighed, looking a little disappointed.

"Fine, but you're just making your job harder," he said and started to get up. I took that as my cue to leave and walked away as quietly as I could, not wanting either of them to know I had eavesdropped on their conversation. _God, what a weird kid_, I thought, as I left the bleachers.

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Today I decided to walk home instead of riding the bus. That way I could try to catch up with Kenny, and maybe try to figure out some of the answers to my questions. I knew that he always walked home from school with Kyle. They both never took the bus, Kenny being poor and unable to pay, and Kyle hating the noise and overcrowded space. Stan usually never went with them because he had football practice, while I always took the bus since I was too lazy to walk.

"Kenneh! Wait up, Kenneh!" I yelled when I spotted him walking down the street, with Kyle at his side. He heard me and stopped to turn around, while I hurried over to where he was.

"What do you want fat ass?"

"I wasn't talking to you, you stupid Jew!" I scowled at Kyle, who was giving me an irritated look. When would he learn that I wasn't fat, I was big-boned? I turned away from him, facing Kenny.

"Kenneh, I want to know why you've been trying to convince me to lose weight all of a sudden! What would you get from it anyway?" I demanded. I don't know why I even cared, but it had been bugging me for a while now. There was just something about it that was really suspicious, and the conversation that I overheard just yesterday made it even more so.

"I told you, Cartman, it's not healthy to eat the way you do. I'm just trying to help you," Kenny said, shrugging. I wasn't sure if he was lying or not, it was kind of hard to tell when he had that orange hood covering his face.

"So _why_ are you trying to help me?" I asked. Kenny rolled his eyes at me, looking exasperated.

"Look fat ass, just accept the fact that maybe he's trying to help you because he actually cares. Just because you're incapable of feeling and would never do that for someone else unless _you_ got something out of it doesn't mean that everybody else is like that!" Kyle snapped. He looked like he was getting pretty impatient, probably from having to hear Kenny and I argue about the same thing all week.

"Nobody asked you, Kyle, so shut your goddamn Jew-mouth!" I yelled at him. I turned back to face Kenny again, but before I could repeat my question he interrupted me.

"Cartman, if you want to know the real reason why I want to help you _so _badly, then I'll tell you—" Kenny started to say, surprising me. I hadn't thought he would give in so fast—"But only if you lose weight first," he finished. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

I glared at him, angry because I knew that there was no other way I could get him to tell me, and no other way I'd be able to find out more about the strange boy I had seen the other day, unless I agreed. So, even though I was super pissed off and really hated Kenny at the moment, I had already made up my mind.

"_Fine, _I will._" _

"What?" Kenny asked, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"I said _fine_, I will!" I scowled at him. As much as I hated the idea of going on a diet and actually exercising, I _had_ to know Kenny's real reasons for trying to get me to start losing weight. I wasn't sure why, but I felt like it was something that I _needed_ to know. Plus, maybe I did need to lose some weight. Not that I would ever admit it.

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End of Chapter Two

I hope you liked the chapter, please review! This one took me a lot longer for me to write. The next one is gonna be where the slash starts.


	3. What's up with Stan and Kyle?

Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. School only started a couple weeks ago and already I have a ton of projects and homework. Next time I'll try to update faster! I decided that this chapter is where the slash begins yay! and I also put it back to Kenny's pov. I wonder if maybe I should try writing some chapters in third person……?

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I still couldn't believe Cartman had actually agreed to my plan. I knew that he'd been pretty suspicious at first when I suddenly started acting like I cared about him and his well-being (which I always have, really, just not enough to actually do anything about it, at least, not until now) but I hadn't known that he wanted to find out the real reason I was doing this that _badly_. Maybe he had some kind of sixth sense nobody knew about.

It had been at least a week since he told me _"Fine, I will!"_ and agreed to let me help him lose weight but so far we had gotten _nowhere_. Cartman was really frustrating when it came to getting him to exercise and I had already started to give up any hope of succeeding when I remembered someone who could help. Not Damien though. I was getting desperate, but not enough to resort to brainwashing. I'm only using that if the situation gets _really_ hopeless.

I looked down at the address written on a piece of paper I was holding, hoping I was on the right street. I walked along the sidewalk till I found a house with the number 810 above the door. That had to be it. I walked up to the house a little wearily, hoping that that someone was home, and rang the doorbell.

"'Ello?" a boy that looked to be about my age, seventeen or eighteen, maybe, answered the door. He had a French accent and there was a cigarette between his lips.

"Kenny?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?" I had met Mole a long time ago, during the war with Canada. He had been killed by guard dogs and when he died he had landed in Hell (most people do), which was the same place I had been during the war. I talked to him for a while there, before I left and got into heaven. I've only talked to him a few times since then. He's the only person (besides me) that's died and come back to life, even though it only happened to him once and he only came back to life because I asked Satan to return everything back to normal.

"Um…I need your help with someone…"

"I don't do assassinationz, zough I theenk I could find zomeone—"

"No! I mean, that's not what I meant. I need you to help get Cartman to lose weight and—"

"Why would I help ze fat boy who killed me? I still haven't forgotten zat it was hiz fault I got attacked by zose guard dogs!" Mole scowled at me. He looked pretty pissed off, not that I blame him; I don't like guard dogs either. I decided to tell him about the deal I had made with Satan. After all, what difference would it make if _he_ knew? Mole looked a little bit surprised at first, but asides from the initial shock he took it rather well.

"Eet makes enough senze I suppoze. I wouldn't put eet past ze fat boy to do zomething like zat," Mole says after I finish explaining. His accent was starting to get on my nerves.

"So you'll help then?" I really needed him to say yes. I knew next to nothing about good diet and exercise; mainly because my own diet consisted mostly of frozen waffles and I never did any exercise outside of P.E. (exercising would just make me skinnier, something I did _not_ want, since was already underweight and scrawny due to being underfed). Plus, Cartman never listened to me. Whenever I told him not to eat something or to go get some exercise he would just yell at me saying something like "It's my body, I can do whatever I want with it, you poor piece of shit!" or something like that. Almost as if he had forgotten about our deal. I couldn't force him to do anything either, not because I didn't want to but because he was about six times my size while I was built like a fucking twig. Mole was required to stay fit though; he had to with his job. Digging holes all day required lots of muscle and endurance.

"If I did 'elp you, what would I get in return?"

"Umm…you could torture him with sit-ups and pushups?" I asked hopefully. He seemed to think this over, and then gave me an evil grin.

"Good enough," he said, the expression on his face making me feel sorry for Cartman already. I grin back at him, glad he had agreed to help. Cartman might not listen to me, but I knew if he ignored Mole he'd just get hit over the head by his shovel.

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I'm sitting in Kyle's living room, watching TV. Even though I haven't done any real physical activities, I'm still exhausted. Just _watching_ Cartman do all those painful looking exercises made me tired, and listening to Mole's grating French accent had given me a headache. I decided to leave them on their own and met up with Kyle. I think he must have been pretty sick of hearing me complain about always having to eat waffles, because he had invited me over for dinner.

I turned my head, looking over at the kitchen. Mrs. Broflovski was busy cooking while Kyle was going through the fridge, looking for something to drink. He came back and sat down next to me a few seconds later, handing me one, too.

"Where's Stan?" I suddenly think to ask. I had just realized that he wasn't here, which was really unusual since those two are _always_ together, they're practically attached at the hip. The only times I saw one without the other is when Stan had football practice or when Kyle had his basketball practice.

"We don't have to do everything together, why do people always ask me that whenever they don't see me with him!" He was glaring at me now, a look he normally saved for Cartman. Hmmm….I wonder what happened between those two? Maybe they were having another fight or something. They seemed to be having those a lot more lately.

"Did something happen?" Obviously, but I decided to ask that question anyway, just to make sure. Kyle sighed and stared at the floor, trying to avoid my gaze.

"No…nothing happened, why?" Liar, I could tell.

"You two have always been really good friends, and now all of a sudden you're fighting when you always used to get along so well. What happened between you two?" I repeat my question. Kyle still wasn't looking at me. Frustrated, I grab his shoulder and force him to face me, and when I see his face I try not to laugh. His cheeks were a deep shade of red and I suddenly understand why he had avoided looking at me.

I guess I wasn't trying too hard not to laugh because Kyle immediately shouted, "What's so funny?"

"Y-you!" I choked out, laughing. I had finally figured out _why_ Kyle was acting the way he was. I had my suspicions before but I hadn't been as sure of it as I was now. "You like Stan don't you? Admit it, you do!"

"WHAT! I DO NOT!" Oh, Kyle when will you learn? It's so easy to tell when you're lying.

"_Sure_, Kyle, I _believe_ you."

"Godammit, I'm serious! How the hell did we even start talking about this?" I shrug. I don't remember either. I'm about to ask him another question, but Mrs. Broflovski's voice calls us from the kitchen.

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Kyle and I both get up and start heading toward the kitchen. I looked over at Kyle and let the subject drop for now, but I wasn't through with him yet.

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End of chapter three

Please review! They're what keeps me motivated to write more.


	4. Hell again

Author's Note: Reviews are nice…

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"Four, five, six…faster beetch! You call zat a pushup!" I sigh and look over to where Cartman and Mole were. Mole was holding a shovel dangerously close to Cartman's head, while the other was on the floor doing the most _painful_ looking pushups I have ever seen. With both of them making so much noise (Cartman's panting and wheezing while Mole was ranting and screaming) I was having a really hard time concentrating on my homework. I spent most of yesterday playing video games and watching TV at Kyle's house, so I hadn't gotten _any _of it finished.

I was already getting a headache from trying to understand fucking Shakespeare, and listening to those two was making it worse.

"Goddammit, be quiet!" I know I sounded like Kyle, but seriously I just want them to _shut up_. They've been like this all morning; I'm surprised Cartman hasn't collapsed from exhaustion. Then again, if I had a maniac pointing a shovel at my head, I would probably find some extra stamina, too.

"Why do you have to use _my_ house? Can't you go to Cartman's!" I yell, frustrated. They weren't that annoying, really, it was just the Shakespeare that was making me cranky, plus I hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast again.

"I told you, my mom's having Mr. Mackey over again—there is_ no way_ I am staying to see _that_."

"Ugh…" Okay, so he won that round. Seriously, his mom needed to stop being such a whore so I can do my homework in peace.

"Queet slacking, fat boy! Pushups, _now_!"

"Ay! Don't fucking hit me with your shovel, you French piece of shit! OWWW! Son of a bitch! OWWW! "

I sigh. Today is going to be a _long_ day.

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I'm walking towards Kyle's house again. It seems that every time I get bored I always head over to his place. It's probably because he has video games and TV, while my house doesn't even have electricity most of the time. Mole and Cartman were still in my room when I left; I hope Mole doesn't _kill_ Cartman through over exhaustion. That would ruin the whole point of him doing this in the first place.

…It's kinda scary how much Mole seems to enjoy "training" Cartman. At least, that's how he puts it; it looks more like torture than training to me.

Once I reach the Broflovski household, I ring the doorbell. Instead of Kyle answering it, I see his mother open the door, not really looking surprised to see me. After a while, she had gotten used to me visiting her son all the time (I tried to spend as little time at home as possible, so I went here instead) and she didn't really seem to mind when I showed up on her doorstep without warning.

"Oh, hello Kenny… Kyle's in his room upstairs, with a friend."

"'Kay, thanks," I say, making my way to the stairs. When I reach the door to his room, I raise my hand to knock, but stop when I hear a sort of muffled groan coming from inside. _What the hell is going on in there?_ I place my hand on the doorknob, and slowly turn and push the door slightly open, careful not to make any noise. I peek through the small opening and see Kyle on his bed…with Stan…HOLY SHIT!

I can feel my jaw drop, and before either of them can notice me, I shut the door. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I shake my head, trying to force the strangely hot, yet slightly nauseating images of Stan and Kyle going at it, out of my head. I mean, I've always _suspected_ that they were both gay for each other, but seeing it was a whole lot different than just thinking it.

I head downstairs and walk outside; I don't think Kyle would want me there, not when he's busy with Stan. I'm trying to think of someplace else to go, not really paying much attention to the road. So when I cross the street, it's no big surprise that a bus just _happens_ to make a turn into the road, right when I'm crossing it.

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Sometimes I wonder if God hates me. That was probably the _thirtieth_ time I've gotten run over (only counting the times it happened in front of Kyle's house). Maybe it was cursed or something.

Damien was sitting next to me on a couch; we were both at Satan's place, watching a movie and eating popcorn. I wasn't really paying attention to the movie all that much. Damien had picked it out, and it was way too emo for my enjoyment.

"So…where is your dad?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation. Even if I have to listen to his squeaky, high-pitched, ear grating voice, it's still better than watching this gay ass movie.

"He went to the ninth layer of hell, I think."

"Huh?"

"Remember when I came to South Park the first time, I told you I was from the seventh layer of hell? Well, that's where we are right now, and Dad went to the ninth layer of Hell, which is underneath the eighth layer, which is underneath the seventh."

"Oh…right…" I pretend to understand.

"He's not gonna be back till tomorrow, I think."

"Wait, so I'm _stuck _here until then?" I couldn't go back home unless Satan was there to send me off. I didn't know the way to Earth from Hell, only he and Damien did, and somehow I don't think Damien would be all that willing to help me leave. I don't even know _why_ the thought of staying here overnight bothered me so much; it was just…_something _about that stupid emo boy really, _really _got on my nerves. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but—

"What do you mean 'stuck here'? What, you'd rather be at home, sleeping with rats?" He glares at me, interrupting my thoughts.

"No, I just, um… ugh, never mind." I turn to the TV, deciding to ignore him and watch the rest of the movie, even though it was really gay.

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End of Chapter Four


	5. Goddamnit, I hate Frenchies

Author's Note: I'm trying to make up for updating so slow on the last chapter, so I'm posting two chapters in a row. Please review! Oh, and to those who like Fallout boy, I'm sorry for all the bashing. I just couldn't help myself, so please don't be too mad at me!

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**Kenny's POV**

When the movie was finished, Damien left to go to his room, while I slept on the couch. Or at least, I _tried_. I couldn't really fall asleep because I kept hearing music playing from his room. Goddamn emo, how was I supposed to sleep when he had stupid Fallout boy on his radio full blast? The singer's voice was even more annoying than Damien's was, a feat hard to accomplish. I stared at the ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep.

After a while, I'm still _awake_ and I get off the couch, heading toward Damien's room. There is _no way_ I'm going to put up with any more of this shitty music. Not even bothering to knock, I burst into his room, ready to yell at him for having such poor emo taste in music. I wasn't expecting him to be changing and instead of yelling, I just stood there, staring at him with my mouth open. Because underneath all those layers of black clothes, he was _hot_. I mean _really_ hot. I continued to stare at him in just his boxers, first looking at his muscled arms, then at his well toned chest and six-pack. Whoa. I had no _idea_. Even Stan-the-football-player-quarterback wasn't this buff.

"What?" Damien asked, giving me a weird look.

"Err…nothing, just, uh, never mind…" Was it me, or did I just experience a weird sense of déjà vu? No, it _wasn't _just me; this was like a weird replay of the scene that happened about an hour ago. Damn you, Damien, for throwing me off!

Before Damien can ask me another question, I step outside his room and practically slam the door, almost running down the stairs. I'm not sure _what_ the hell just happened, but my face was burning up and I hoped to god that he hadn't seen it.

I went back to the couch, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep again. Eventually, the music starts to fade and I finally fall asleep, thinking that tomorrow I'd be able to leave this place. For some reason, the thought didn't make me as happy as it usually did.

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**Cartman's POV**

"Kenney, where _were_ you last night? Mole made me do a hundred pushups because you weren't there to stop him!" I scowl at him. My arms are sore and I can barely lift them, otherwise I probably would've socked Kenny by now. It was his fault that I had been stuck with Mole the rest of the day because the bastard ditched me.

"Hell," he replies, and I give him a weird look. Maybe he means that it was hell at home, because his parents are always fighting and he never got anything to eat (unless you counted a frozen waffle for dinner and vodka for dessert).

"Okaayyyy….."

"Where's Mole?" he asks, changing the subject.

"Ugh, who cares about that French piece of shit, just be glad he's not here right now." As if on cue, my door suddenly bursts open, and the bastard walks in my room. He has the Shovel again. The Shovel, not just _any_ shovel but _the Shovel_, the special _sharp_ and _pointy_ one he carries around whenever he wants to "train" me. Some training; It's more like torture. I swear, the evil look he gets in his eyes whenever he watches me do back-breaking sit-ups and extremely painful pushups creeps me out. It's obvious he could care less about helping me; he probably gets off on watching me suffer. Still, at least his "training" actually helps. I've lost about sixty pounds since we've started, and yesterday I had gone up to Wendy and asked her out. And she said yes. _She_ said _yes_. I told Stan all about it, rubbing it in his face, but he didn't even seem to care. Seriouslay, I think something might be wrong with him. Normally, that was something he'd be really upset about. I had almost hoped he'd be so depressed that he'd turn emo again, and then I could take pictures of him and call him a fag. Instead, he hadn't even blinked, just sat there, not even looking away from his stupid video game. Something was wrong with him, alright.

"Vat are you thinking of, fat boy?" The stupid bastard interrupts my thoughts.

"I'm thinking, 'What the hell is that French piece of shit doing at _my _house? Doesn't he know I hate goddamn _Frenchies_?'" Stupid bastard scowls at me, and I saw him raise his shovel a little. That couldn't be a good sign. Maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut.

"Fifty seet-ups! On ze floor, NOW!" I _really_ hated Frenchies. Specially this one in particular.

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End of chapter five


	6. Damien

Another update! Three chapters in three days, I _better_ get reviews… Also, you might have noticed that I keep changing the summarry. It's because I can never seem to find the right one for my story! The first summary was okay for the first chapter, but now there's a lot more going on and I'm not sure how to sum it all up without giving the wrong idea. If you have any suggestions, then PLEASE tell me!

Oh, and thanks to all those who reviewed my previous chapters! I love you guys! Hugs and kisses

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_Cartman and Wendy are dating? What the hell? _I thought they hated each other, but watching them from outside the restaurant, I guess they didn't.

I was walking home from school, this time without Kyle, who had basketball practice. When I walked past Shakey's Pizza I had seen fat ass and Wendy sitting next to each other, and at first I couldn't believe my eyes. Cartman and_ Wendy_? Together? Whoa, dude. I mean, _whoa_. Sure the fat ass had lost a few pounds (okay, maybe a _lot_ more than a few pounds) but I didn't know he'd actually be able to get a girl, especially Wendy.

I wondered how Stan felt about this. With Kyle by his side, I'm not sure he'd even care. Or notice. Well, unless fat ass had already rubbed it in. Which I'm sure he would've done.

"Hey, Kenny! What's up, dude?" I heard someone yell. I turned in that direction and saw Stan heading toward me, his backpack on one shoulder and a football in one hand. It was kinda freaky that he showed up, when I was just thinking about him.

"I haven't talked to you in the longest time, what are you doing?"

"Uh…nothing, I was just walking home."

"Yeah right, what were you staring at in the window?" Before I can stop him or say anything to distract him, he turned his head straight to the table where Eric and Wendy were sitting. NO! What if I was wrong, what if he got depressed and decided to turn goth again, even with Kyle? I hoped to God this wouldn't be a repeat of last time, because let me tell you, it was really _annoying_ having to deal with those stupid goths all the time.

"Huh, so Cartman _wasn't_ lying. I guess he and Wendy really are going out. Gross," he said, making a face. Thank god, I was right. He really didn't seem to care. A month ago, he probably would've thrown some kind of fit.

"What?" Stan asked, giving me a weird look.

"Nothing, I'm just glad you didn't turn goth." I just realized how strange that sounded. Oh, well.

"_Uh-huh_…"

"What time does Kyle get out of basketball practice?" I decide to change the subject.

"About Five O'clock," Stan answered immediately, smiling at the mere mention of Kyle. Jesus, the way these two were, I wondered how I didn't guess sooner.

"Oh, really and are you meeting him afterward?" Maybe if I tried, I could get a confession out of Stan. Compared to Kyle, he was the easier one to manipulate into telling me things... wait did I just sound like Cartman?

"Yeah, he's coming over my house after practice."

"Hmm, so you two take turns right?"

"Uh…you mean like take turns going over to each other's houses? Well, yeah…"

"Interesting..." I was actually talking about the shade of red he was turning, not what he just said. This was too easy.

"So, is he going to be spending the nigh—?"

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Damn it. I turned and glared at Cartman. He had left the restaurant without me noticing, and Wendy was standing right behind him. He just _had_ to interrupt me, right when it was starting to get good, too!

"Oh, hey fat ass," Stan greeted him. I think maybe he was spending a little _too_ much time with Kyle; that was something that _he_ usually said. I glanced at him and also noted the look of relief on his face. Relief? Since when is _anyone_ relieved to see Cartman? I must have been close to getting that confession out of him! Damn that fat ass, I had been so close!

I give Eric an evil look, but he didn't notice it. He was too busy gloating to Stan, who didn't even look like he cared. After only a few minutes, I got sick of it and waved goodbye to Stan. He waved back at me and I turn around to leave.

A few blocks later, I was almost home (yes, our town is _that_ small) when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and whipped my head around so fast I almost broke my neck.

"Damien? Jesus, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"Hey, Kenny," he simply replied. He was dressed in his usual black clothes and his skin was as pale as always. "I wanted to talk to you about Cartman. Dad says that he's really improved, so if you keep it up you'll be getting your wish pretty soon."

"Oh, so that's why you're here…" Why did I feel a little disappointed? Was it because he had only come to deliver a message from Satan, and not just because he wanted to see me? …Nah, that _couldn't_ be it.

"What were you going to ask for, anyway?"

"I'm not even sure, I haven't really thought about it yet."

"I always just thought you were going to wish that you didn't die so often, and then you wouldn't have to spend so much time in hell."

"Maybe…"

"Well, that's all Dad wanted me to tell you. See you the next time you die." Was it just me, or did that last sentence sound really creepy?

I watched as Damien started to vanish right in front of me, on his way back to Hell; the _seventh_ layer of Hell, if I remember correctly.

I walked the rest of the distance to my house, wondering, _What _am_ I going to ask for?_

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End of Chapter Six


	7. At home

Finally, my internet's working again! I've had this typed for a couple days now, but my internet connection is REALLY unreliable, so I couldn't post this till today. This is probably the longest chapter I've written, so far.

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I enter the house and see my brother sitting down on the couch, staring at the TV, as always. It wasn't even on (Dad couldn't pay the electricity bills again), but he was looking at it with this fascinated expression on his face, like it was the most interesting thing. I felt the old, familiar anger that I always did whenever I looked at my brother. This was all _her_ fault. Mom had _known_ when she was pregnant with my brother, but I guess she didn't care, coz she drank like she always did. Now, because of her, Kevin had turned out mentally handicapped—retarded, as Dad liked to call him.

I walk in front of him, blocking his view of the TV, and waved a hand in front of his face. He merely grunted and tried to shove me out of his way, but missed. I sigh and turn away, deciding to go back to my room. He's always been like that; it's hopeless to try and get him to do something besides watching a blank television screen all day.

I open my closet, looking for something to change into. There's nothing. Everything is either torn to the point where even rags look better, or so dirty that I'd rather just stay in the clothes I'm already wearing.

I seriously hate my life at home. It probably sounds all emo and crap, but it's the truth. I hate having a retarded brother who never does anything, hate having a dad who's always drunk, hate having a mom who's so fucking violent and always screaming obscenities at me and Dad, but most of all I HATE being called a poor piece of white trash and living in the poorest part of the neighborhood.

"_Kenny!_" I hear my Mom shrieking from the kitchen. I close my eyes and groan. _Not again…_ I stepped outside my room, the only place where I could feel at ease in the entire house. When I walked inside the kitchen, Mom sees me and goes off on one of her rants. Hers even beats Kyle's, which, in this case, is _not_ a good thing.

"Vy the hell isn't there any food in the fridge? How many fuckhing times do I haf to tell you, bring back food or don't bother cohming back! Hior just like your father, hiou uselesh piece of—" I don't say anything; just tried to think of other things instead, so I could tune her voice out. It works for a few seconds, until she decides to slap me on the face, _hard._

"Are you _lishening_ to me, boy? I said hon't come bak till you get a job and make shom monhey! You think you can just fuckhing lie around here all day, like your lazy ash broher?" She takes a swig out of the bottle she's holding in her hand. It's almost empty, and I see a couple more bottles of vodka lying on the counter behind her.

"I'm _fifteen,_ Mom. I can't work until I'm _sixteen_, it's the _law_." I try to keep my voice and face expressionless; I don't want her to know how I'm feeling, how much I _hated_ her. I try not to choke as I swallow some blood that's inside my mouth, from her slap.

"You think I _carrre_? You know how old I wazz when I started worhing? _Twelf_! And hou, already fifteen and you haven't even made a dime! You're more trouble than you're worth, like yorr son of a bitch father!" Her words are slurred and I make a face at the smell of her breath. It reeks of booze and smoke. Sometimes I'm not sure which one gets drunk more often, Mom or Dad?

I figure she's probably too drunk by now to care or even notice if I leave, and I head towards the door. I don't wanna stay here anymore. Once I'm outside I breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn't sure where I was going, all I knew was that anywhere was better than home, especially when my father got back. And I do NOT want to be home the same time he is, even if it means freezing outside.

"Kenny?" I whirl around to face the person the voice came from.

"Oh, hey Butters…what are you doing here?" Butters and I had a couple of the same classes together and talked during those times. We had sorta become friends, I guess.

"M-mom said that I need to bur-bring Dad back from the g-gay bathhouse—err, I mean the uh… library. I'm on my way there r-right now. What are you doing h-here, Kenny?

"…I was on my way to a friend's house." That was sort of true, since I probably would have ended up at Cartman's or Stan's house eventually.

"W-well, I need to go and get my dad now. S-see you tomorrow then, Kenny." I say goodbye to him and watch him as he walks away. I guess there are some people who have it worse than I do.

I think about who I should go to—Cartman or Stan? Stan told me he was having Kyle over, so that probably meant I wouldn't be wanted there. Cartman might still be with Wendy, and even if he wasn't, he still wouldn't want me at his house, because he was an asshole. That left…Damien. Except he was in hell, and I didn't really feel like killing myself just to get there, when I died often enough on my own. Damn it. I needed to get more friends. I realize that the only people I really talk to are Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and sometimes Butter.

Oh, well…maybe I should just go home. But instead of going there, I'm walking the opposite direction of my house. I'm not sure where I'm headed, but I just keep walking. Pretty soon I find myself in Stark's Pond, a place where Kyle, Stan, Cartman and I usually went to go ice skating. It was quiet during the nighttime, and there was almost no sound, but then I hear some branches breaking a few feet away. I jump and turn to face the noise. I almost don't see him; his black clothes blend in with the darkness, while his skin matches the snow. My heart skips a beat as I realize who it is.

"I thought you went home," Damien says. I can't see his face, but I recognize the voice.

"I could say the same for you," I respond. Ignoring the cold, I sit down next to him. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"No, just a little while. Sometimes Hell is way too chaotic. I like it better here, it's nice and peaceful." _Peaceful? _I thought about all the raving celebrities, rallies, crab people, aliens, protests, metro sexual parades…well, I guess when you compare it to hell it's a _little_ more peaceful.

"Hmm…" I see him look at me and hear him take a deep breath, as if he's about to say something. I wait, but he says nothing.

"What?" I finally have to ask.

"Dad said that when I get older he'll hand the throne over to me, and I'll be the one to rule over Hell. After that I won't be able to come back here anymore. The ruler isn't supposed to go back and forth, so I guess I probably won't see you again after that." He sighs and wraps his arms around his knees.

"What! Why not?" I feel my stomach lurch at the prospect of never seeing him again. Why did the thought scare me so much? Did I actually care about emo boy, or was it just the cold making my brain trip? I wonder…maybe the reason he always annoyed me, without even doing anything at all, was because--?

"Well, if you ask Dad to make it so that you don't die all the time, the next time you see me would be your permanent death. And that probably won't happen for a long time."

"How do you know that's what I'm gonna ask for?"

"Isn't it?" he asked. I still can't see his face, but I imagine he looks a bit surprised.

"I haven't really thought about it yet, but I'm not sure if that's what I want anymore…" He turned his head so that he was facing me, and I see his mouth move as if he was about to ask a question. Something came over me right then. Before he can say anything, I lean forward and place my lips firmly on his. I hear his breath hitch a little, and then all of a sudden he was kissing me back.

He pulled me closer and I can feel him smiling. I smile back. Today might have started out as bad day, but it was ending well.

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End file.
